Bicycles
by ensignrolaren
Summary: Inspired by the historical HG Wells quote "Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of mankind."


Bicycles

In knee-high boots and a thin shirt, Myka was not dressed for a lengthy bike ride. But HG had found the bikes in the shed behind the B & B and immediately suggested an outing. Myka had been afraid if she'd asked to change first, HG would have just gone on her own. So they'd started down the long road that led away from the B & B into town, with no particular destination in mind.

Myka had tried to give HG tips on using the bicycle, which had two brakes, 24 gears, and an adjustable seat, but HG had waved her off irritably. So she rolled her eyes, and rode in wide, slow circles around HG as she examined the machine.

After a few minutes, without having actually adjusted or experimented with it, HG got on the bike. With a look of smug satisfaction, she pedaled forward and after a moment, expertly changed gears. As the road sloped downward, she used the rear brake to slow down. Myka watched, impressed.

"All right, so this is not your first bike ride. But I know you haven't used a 21st century bike before. How do you even know how to change gears?" Myka demanded.

"How is it that you know what line of questioning to take in an artifact pursuit?" returned HG. "We all have our strengths."

Myka smiled.

"In any case," HG continued, "I've been on many bicycles. Hobby-horses, tandems, velocipedes, ordinaries– what did you call this one?"

"I think it's called a hybrid. For road and trail."

"Marvelous," HG said. "Just aces."

Myka laughed. Post-its, bicycles– these advancements must be amazing to someone from the 19th century.

HG smoothly changed gears again as they started up the next hill. "Every time I see an adult on a bike," she said, with a tone that seemed heavy for a Sunday afternoon cruise, "I no longer despair for the future of mankind."

Myka tried to place the quote. She knew she'd read that somewhere– wait a minute.

"Quoting yourself?" Myka said, arching an eyebrow.

"What?" HG said.

"What you just said– it's a pretty well-known quote. Of yours. You know that, right?"

"I most certainly did not," HG said, seeming surprised.

"Huh," Myka said, not knowing what else to say. She felt like she'd accidentally liked someone's year-old Facebook post at 3 o'clock in the morning. "Well, um. A lot of people know about it," she continued. "Not just me," she added, almost to herself.

"No, it's fine, Miss Bering, I just… I'm at a bit of a disadvantage."

"Whoa, HG, 'Miss Bering'? When did that happen?"

"Sorry," said HG. "Sorry. Old habits, you know. Bit of a throwback just then, thinking about– velocipedes," she said.

"It's fine," Myka said, still looking over at HG as the inventor pedaled along on the Specialized bike, anachronistically. "Just call me Myka."

"Myka," HG repeated. "And you should really call me Helena."

"That's a bit harder but I'll try," Myka said, a laugh in her voice.

"Why?" HG said, smiling back.

"I don't know. You're just… HG Wells. My literary hero."

"As well I should be," HG said without a trace of sarcasm, which made Myka grin even harder.

"Well, you are."

"All right then."

Myka studied the handlebars of her bike for a moment, noticing how rusty they were where the paint was chipped. The bike had been in storage a long time.

"Why are you at a disadvantage," Myka said, trying not to sound too interested.

HG was quiet for a long time, and Myka began to regret the question. The clicking sound of two bikes coasting, the tires buzzing, and the wind whistling just seemed to draw attention to HG's silence. Myka noticed that clouds had moved overhead, threatening rain.

HG finally spoke. "You know much more about me and my life than I do about… this life. The 21st century," she said.

The answer disappointed Myka. It seemed at once obvious and unnecessary, and also completely untrue. She didn't doubt that HG knew this, and that HG would know that she knew this. She imagined Pete listening to this mental analysis and saw him rolling his eyes.

"In a way, I guess." Myka allowed. "I mean, I know things people have quoted you saying, and books you've written, and some vital statistics. But I know less about you than I know about, you know, Justin Beiber," she said, dredging up the first celebrity she thought of.

"Justin Beiber," HG repeated, drawing out the unfamiliar name. "And how much do you know about this Mr. Beiber?"

"Well, we all know more than we need to," Myka said, and realized she'd aligned herself with all the other contemporaries of the 21st century, against HG. "It's not really important," she finished lamely. "We can fill you in on anything you need to know. Look at how you took to that bike," she offered, trying to get HG back to her initial enthusiasm for the progress of bike machinery. Something dark seemed to hang over her.

"I don't know, Myka," she said, a strained quality to her voice. "I need to get this machine on my workbench. I think I could make it so much better."

Myka hesitated. At least she had a project to help her adjust to this brave new world. Before she could respond, HG looked over with a wide smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"We'd better turn back. It looks like we're in for nasty weather."


End file.
